


Something to Keep the Light from Passing Through

by terreocti



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Body Horror, M/M, Unethical Medicine, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terreocti/pseuds/terreocti
Summary: Gunpowder Tim is dragged from the wreckage of the moon into an inescapable new life.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if there's any clear cannon on whether Dr. Carmilla was still on the ship to mechanize Tim, but I'm saying she was, and it's Schrodinger's Cannon Compliance until I see a timeline.

The last thing Tim truly sees is light. It's beautiful, creation from the destruction he'd wrought, the last note in a gunpowder overture. The final flare that sends him hurtling toward his reward and his reckoning in full and piercing brightness. It fades too soon, blindness dark as death consuming him, and he knows with certainty he's reached his end along with the lunar cannon's fuse. But his conviction is meaningless before fate's uncaring intervention.

How he made his way from drifting-dying through space to where he is now is quite a mystery to his slowly waking mind. He ruminates distantly on it, barely conscious but somehow knowing he's alive. He knows very little, but he knows he's alive. That's certain enough, the world around him feeling far too sharp and real to be anything but life, agony pulsing through his head, radiating from his eyes. He sees the light again for a moment, just a flash of what had every right to kill him, and the pain flares even hotter than before. He's distantly surprised to realize he can scream.

With this knowledge he lets out a sudden shriek of agony, thrashing in terror as awareness washes fully over him, and is horrified once more to find he can't move. He's trapped, held down by leather straps to ice cold metal. There's a clamp around his head so he can't so much as turn it and he is trapped, he is trapped, his eyes on fire, his whole face consumed with pain, and for a moment he fears he was wrong. Maybe he's died after all. Maybe he's in hell.

A voice interrupts his panic, cutting cleanly through his screams. "Oh, dear, I didn't expect you to wake up so soon!" the woman says, patting him gently on the shoulder. She almost manages to sound sympathetic, but Tim can hear the eager curiosity beneath her words. "Don't worry, the pain is normal," she assures him. He wonders hysterically if that's meant to be a comfort.

"Who are you?" he gasps out. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"I saved you," she replies, coldness creeping through her voice. "You were dying. Lost and alone with your eyes burned to shreds. But now you're safe. You won't ever die, and soon your eyes will be fully repaired." Her hand brushes across his face and he hears the soft clink of her nails against metal.

"Repaired? What the fuck do you mean repaired?" he demands hoarsely, trying to yank his head away from her despite the clamp holding him firmly in place.

She taps her nails, sharp and deliberate and excruciating directly against the socket of his eye, and for a dizzying moment the chiming of the metal sounds almost melodic. "New," she tells him. "Better. I've crafted them specially and carefully for you. To give you sight! To give you eternity! You'll never die now; aren't you pleased?"

"Wait," Tim manages, sudden realization sending fresh horror stabbing through him. "No. Fuck. You- You're Doctor Carmilla."

"How did you know?" she asks, delighted and curious "Oh! Did Jonny mention me? He must have, I know the two of you are such good friends!" Her words send an awful spike of nausea through Tim as he remembers his last sight of Jonny, severed head grinning in a box, somehow still horribly alive. Doctor Carmilla chatters on, not noticing or caring about his reaction.

"I'm sure he had some wonderful stories to tell about me," she says with a laugh. "He does tend to exaggerate, though. I hope he hasn't left you with too terrible an impression."

Tim wants nothing less in that moment than to hear her say another word. "Being tied to a fucking table with my face ripped open is not helping my fucking opinion of you!" he snarls, no longer able to contain his building fury. "You want to improve my impression of you then let me go! Let me off this fucking table!"

"Well I'm obviously not going to do that," Doctor Carmilla says dismissively, unmoved by his emotion. "After all, your eyes are only half done! And I'm fairly certain a lot of moving around wouldn't be any good for the integrity of your skull." 

Tim thrashes again, howling in wordless rage, and the doctor steps back, annoyed. "Well," she sighs "I'm not going to get any work done with you behaving like this," Her voice, still utterly calm, rises to cut through his screams. He hears her begin to walk away, murmuring, "I really don't understand why there's always so much fuss."

Tim is, in retrospect, much more surprised by the jab of the needle than he should be. As the medicine takes hold his shouts trail slowly into silence, and he falls once more into the eagerly welcoming darkness.

He wakes far too soon, thrust into a condition no better than before, screaming into consciousness with light burning once more through his eyes, burning to the core of him. He tries desperately to close them and shut out the light to no avail, leaving him utterly unable to escape from the agonizing brightness.

Abruptly the light switches off and he chokes on his screams, struggling to comprehend the sudden absence until a familiar voice jolts through his confusion. "Are you done?" Doctor Carmilla asks, clearly annoyed. "I don't know how you expect me to work with this noise."

"Hurts," Tim croaks weakly. "So bright…"

"It's supposed to be bright," the doctor tells him. "You have working eyes again! Stop- screaming about it."

"Wait, what?" he asks weakly. "They work? But. I can't…"

"You can't see because I had to turn them off to stop your insufferable screeching," she snaps. "If you're willing to behave I'm going to restart them and finish calibrating the mechanism."

Before Tim can respond, or even process that statement, he hears the clack of keys and the light flares once more. He makes a strangled noise, twisting against the restraints as he fights down the panic and the pain. It's beautiful, in a way, the brightness echoing the moon's destruction. He stares into it, enthralled by agony, until it begins to change.

The light distorts, twisting in on itself, into him, sending new waves of fire through his skull. The unbearable shifting seems to go on forever, and he barely notices at first as shadows begin to fade into view, fighting against the light. They contort and stretch, settling uneasily into nearly solid shapes and Tim doesn't know if it's the pain in his head or the terror of the shadows that makes him scream.

A door bangs open, the sound slamming through Tim's awareness and stopping the movement of his distorted vision as Doctor Carmilla turns from the computer in surprise. Tim hears the door smack against the wall as whoever opened it falls into the room, and immediately recognizes Jonny's enraged voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" he screams. "LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE, you fucking monster!"

"Jonny, what are you even doing up?" Carmilla asks, exasperated but unfazed. "It hasn't been half a day since I finished reassembling you. Lay back down before you pop a stitch and start scattering limbs across my floor."

"No. No. Fuck you!" Jonny snarls, crashing into something as he struggles to his feet. "You promised, you keep on promising, no more, no more fucking MECHANISMS, and now you just go ahead and keep on dragging people out of space to fucking TORTURE."

She laughs. "Maybe he'll like being immortal! Besides, I thought you'd be at least a little happy this time. I got him for you! It's your dear friend Tim!" There's vicious insincerity in her tone, obvious and cruel.

Jonny doesn't bother to reply, just screams in rage and launches himself at her. Tim sees the blurred shadow staggering forward and twitches, wishing he could get up and join the fight, but it never even begins. Carmilla is already moving, so fast Tim's new eyes can barely track her shape, and before Jonny can react she's grabbed him by the arm. He's jerked to a stop and has only a second of realization before she wrenches the arm, tearing it back off his body with an awful crunch.

Jonny topples over, cursing in agony and scrambling back, but before he can get more than a few feet away Carmilla raises the arm and slams it into the side of his head. The crack of bone echoes through the sudden silence of the room. 

Tim lies on the table silent and frozen, sickly grateful that his half calibrated eyes had only been able to see shadows of the scene. "Well," Doctor Carmilla says with a sigh. "I probably should have expected that. No one overreacts like Jonny. I suppose it's my fault," she adds reflectively. "He was my first experiment, you know, and I really didn't spend nearly enough time on the bioprogramming. Don't worry though!" she assures Tim, turning toward him. "I've had plenty of practice since then, you'll come out just fine."

"Oh, speaking of which! I need to restart your calibration procedure and get you seeing a bit more than shadows." Tim heart sinks, and he tries to whisper an objection, but she's already back at the computer, tapping rapidly at the keys, and he cries out as something in his eyes begins to click, light sparking up once more.

"Relax," she tells him, running her fingers lightly through the wires tangled in his hair. "I have the program set up to run independently, and I won't need any feedback from you for hours. You can get some rest." 

There's no surprise this time as a needle slides the burning relief of darkness into his arm. He fades out of consciousness to the sound of Jonny's body being dragged slowly from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add additional warnings for future chapters, and I swear there's an actual relationship happening soon. This is the first fic I've written in ages so any and all feedback is welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

A jolt of pain shoots through his eyes, and Tim wakes as they abruptly switch on. He immediately tenses, waiting for whatever new misery the doctor has planned, but when his vision finishes adjusting to the bright bulb above him and brings the shadows into focus he realizes it's Jonny standing over him instead. Tim yelps in shock and jerks away, realizing he's no longer tied down seconds before his body slams painfully onto the hard tile floor.

"Ow. Fuck. What's going on?" he asks, eyes automatically scanning the room as he struggles to get his weakened limbs working well enough to stand.

Jonny hauls him easily to his feet and replies, grinning with manic cheer, "I'm busting you out! I unhooked all your wires and shit so you're fully functional and ready to get the fuck out of here!" He starts tugging Tim toward the door, but Tim's legs immediately give out and he nearly ends up on the floor again before Jonny catches him and sets him upright. 

"Want me to to carry you?" he offers, half smiling with his arms still wrapped warmly around Tim's shoulders.

"I think I can make it," Tim murmurs, leaning against Jonny as he begins to stumble toward the door, thrilled by the thought of escaping this nightmare lab. A spark of worry hits him suddenly, and he almost pauses for a moment. "Am I actually allowed to go or is she going to drag me back here in an hour?" he asks nervously.

"It's fine, you're all done so she won't give a shit," Jonny assures him as they reach the door. He shoves it open and Tim finally gets a look at the ship he's on. It seems pretty nice, though somewhat unsurprisingly decorated with scorch marks along the floor and random bullet holes in the walls.

As they walk, strength starts returning to his limbs, and he can soon manage to stand on his own, unpleasantly aware that his mechanism is the cause of his quick recovery. Soon he's walking well enough that Jonny can carefully let go of him. Tim regrets the loss for a fleeting moment but a distraction quickly appears by way of a man made entirely of metal rounding the corner and walking toward them.

The metal man pauses for a moment glancing at Jonny. "Oh. I heard there was someone new on board," he says, his tone cautiously neutral.

Jonny cuts him off with a glare, gesturing quickly between them. "Tim, this is Drumbot Brian, Brian, this is Gunpowder Tim. See you later." He grabs Tim's hand again to pull him further down the hall.

"Be careful," Brian calls after them. "Ashes invented a new accelerant."

Jonny ignores him, hurrying on. "That sounds bad," Tim comments anxiously.

"We're immortal," Jonny mutters. "Who gives a shit if the ship's on fire?"

Tim is saved from thinking of a response to that as Jonny skids to a stop in front of a nondescript door. He hits the latch and the door slides open to reveal a simple bedroom. "Your room," he tells Tim with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

"Oh," Tim says blankly. His eyes move automatically, zooming and focusing around the place.

"It's boring as shit, I know," Jonny tells him. "But there's clothes that should fit you and you can rest or whatever if you want. If not, go two levels down where we keep all the cool shit and grab whatever you want to spruce the place up. Have fun with it!"

He's still jittery as hell, trying too hard to sound cheerful, and the agonizing headache Tim's been ignoring flares up at the bright words. He rubs his head, trying to avoid the places where his skin stretches tight across the metal in his face. He winces.

"I think I'll just rest for a while," he mumbles, drifting into the room. He turns back to Jonny and sees the frantic look he's trying without much success to hide. "Thank you," he offers softly, reaching out for a moment to touch his arm. 

"Yeah. Okay," Jonny says, almost subdued and already shuffling backward. "Come around and meet the crew whenever you're ready. Bring a gun, though, they're a bunch of violent fuckers. Bye." In an instant he's gone, down the hallway and vanishing around a corner. 

Tim stares after him for a moment and then retreats into his new room, shutting the door. He leans against it for a moment and wishes he could just close his fucking eyes instead of zooming in on every damn scratch in the metal. The joy of getting out of the lab is gone, and he's left alone to face the knowledge that this is his life now. And it will never end.

He tries to ignore this knowledge, tries to get to know the rest of the crew, explore the ship, figure out how to work his horrible shiny new eyes, but it doesn't take long for him to give up on all that bullshit and retreat to his room. He sits on the floor, leaning back against the door, absently reassembling a gun as he surveys the accumulated possessions he'd spent the last few weeks pilfering from the ship's twisting labyrinth of storerooms, which seem to contain absolutely goddamn everything. He keeps trying to be happy about it, but he can't stop his eyes clicking around the room from object to object, zooming and focusing against his will. It's driving him fucking insane, and having more stuff to look at is absolutely not helping.

He can feel the plates that anchor the whirring things shifting painfully beneath his skin, and he wants to rip them from his skull and finally get some fucking peace. He knows it wouldn't do any good, though. This sight is permanent, truly permanent and inescapable, and just to make things worse the fucking things don't even come with eyelids.

He considers shooting everything in the room to see if it makes him feel any better, but then all his new stuff would be wrecked and he'd probably just end up back in the storage labyrinth. He considers shooting himself instead, but he's tried that three times already and he doubts another try would go any better. Options dwindling, he tentatively settles on the idea that maybe he should just get drunk.

As if in response to his dismal thoughts, someone starts banging on the door, jarring him away from it. He hauls himself to his feet and glares at the still shaking door. "What the fuck do you want?" he demands.

"You've been sitting in your room like a depressed asshole all week so I'm here to make you stop that!" Jonny calls through the door.

"Fuck off!" Tim yells back at him. "Not fucking interested!" 

"I have seven bottles of whiskey in the armory if you want to come get drunk as hell and shoot off a hundred different kinds of guns." Jonny counters.

That brings Tim to a stop, and he stares suspiciously at the door for a moment before giving in and yanking it open. "Fine," he concedes. "But this better be some damn good whiskey and some damn good artillery."

"Would I have anything else?" Jonny asks with a grin, and Tim can't help but almost smile back as he lets Jonny take his hand and tug him out into the bright light of the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is is pretty much just porn. Enjoy!

Hours later, as they stumble away from the armory laden with stolen guns and the remains of the whiskey, Tim can't help leaning heavily on Jonny, who's at least as drunk as Tim and keeps toppling into walls, both of them laughing hysterically and barely pretending it's just the alcohol that has them tangled together. Tim wants to resent Jonny's success at cheering him up, but those thoughts are forgotten as they finally burst into Tim's room and let their armfuls of guns and bottles drop to the floor in a hazardous pile. 

The floor, of course, is already cluttered with the collection of random shit Tim's been accumulating from the ship's endless supply of storerooms, and they're immediately out of any space to even stand. Jonny faces this dilemma, unsurprisingly, by sprawling dramatically onto the huge bed that's responsible for taking up half the room. 

"Holy shit, this bed is so soft," he sighs, bouncing slightly. "This is amazing. Where the fuck did you even get this?"

"I'm pretty sure we've got literally any item in the universe stashed somewhere on this ship, Jonny," Tim laughs, flopping down beside him, "and I found the the most decadent fucking bed in existence." 

"Bullshit," Jonny declares with drunken conviction. "This might be the best bed we've got but there's still a whole eternity of awesome shit to be stolen. Another thousand years and we'll be ten times as comfortable."

Tim can't help but tense at the reminder of their inevitable immortality, and can't quite keep the bitterness from his words as he retorts, "Hell of a lot better than fucking moon rock at least. Comfortable as fuck compared to that shit."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Jonny says anxiously, pushing himself up to look at him. "This bed is fucking amazing and absolutely beats the shit out of that shitty fucking moon," 

Tim can't help but smile a little, and Jonny grins back at him. He hesitates for a moment, then carefully reaches out to tangle his fingers gently through Tim's hair. "Of course," he adds casually, "It might not be better for everything. Who knows?"

At that, Tim bursts out laughing and smacks him in the arm. "You can't be serious, is your line really gonna be 'we should check if fucking on a bed is better than fucking on rock in a warzone'?" Tim asks, struggling to speak through his laughter. "That's a damn bold strategy, I gotta say."

"And yet," Jonny murmurs, undeterred and leaning closer, "I'm pretty sure it's still gonna work."

"Fuck you, of course it's gonna work you stupid asshole," Tim says, grabbing Jonny and dragging him in for a kiss. Jonny is laughing against him even as Tim shoves his tongue in his mouth. Tim bites down hard on his lip, shutting him up with a gasp before rolling them over to pin Jonny down against the bed. Jonny arches up beneath him, biting and kissing in equal measure as he grinds his cock up against Tim's thigh.

"God, you've just been waiting for this, haven't you?" Tim murmurs against his lips, slowly rolling his hips down before pulling back to delight in the desperate moan Jonny can't manage to smother.

"Yeah, no shit," he gasps in reply, bucking up and then groaning in frustration as Tim moves just out of reach again. "God damn it! Will you please fuck me already?"

Tim pauses as if considering for a moment, then smiles smugly at him. "You know what, I think I will. Get your clothes off." Jonny moves immediately to obey, scrambling through the buttons on his shirt and shrugging it off before beginning to wrestle with the buckles on his belts.

"What the fuck is your deal with belts?" Tim asks, already nearly stripped and trying not to look impatient.

"I look good as hell in them," Jonny retorts, finally managing to get untangled from his clothes. Tim quickly pins him back down, reaching between them to get a hand on Jonny's cock. He shouts in pleasure, moving desperately before Tim distracts him by pulling Jonny's hand to his cunt, already soaked with arousal.

They both lose themselves in pleasure for a moment, rubbing together before Jonny gathers his thoughts enough to choke out, "Which way are we doing this?" 

"Shit," Tim gasps, uncertain for a moment before remembering some of his lucky storeroom finds. "Hang on, I have a strap right over here somewhere," Tim tells him, disengaging to scramble over to the side of the bed and rummage frantically for the cock and harness he knew was nearby. He bounced back up a minute later fully supplied with both, as well as a bottle of lube, which he chucks at Jonny. "Get ready," he orders with as much authority as he can muster while struggling to adjust the harness and get the strap settled hard against his clit.

"Yes sir," Jonny responds, only a little sarcastic, moving hastily to shove two lubed fingers into his ass. He gasps at the sensation, distracted for a moment before Tim takes the lube to slide it along his own cock. He grabs Jonny's leg and pulls him close. Jonny reaches for Tim's cock, arching against it, but Tim grabs his wrists and presses them to the bed, leaning in to rub against him gently.

Jonny whines and wraps his legs around Tim's waist, trying to pull him closer, but Tim holds firm. "You want something?" he asks with a mischievous smile. "Tell me."

"Oh fuck you," Jonny groans, trembling beneath him. Tim rolls his hips forward again, eliciting a high pitched gasp.

"Come on," Tim whispers, leaning down to bite at Jonny's neck, "Tell me what you want."

Jonny gives in with a cry. "Fuck, fuck, god, Tim please just fuck me! I need you to fuck me, please!" he gasps frantically. Tim gives him what he wants at once, shoving their lips together as he thrusts hard into Jonny's ass. They both cry out with pleasure as Tim slams into him, setting a pace that still has Jonny begging for more. Tim reaches to wrap a hand around Jonny's cock as he feels himself getting close, and bites hard into his shoulder as they both come hard, Jonny yelling with pleasure and shaking around him.

They lie still for a long, exhausted moment before Tim collects himself enough to pull out and roll onto the bed next to him. Jonny smiles almost softly at him before starting to laugh. "Definitely better than the moon," he declares, giggling helplessly.

"For sure," Tim agrees tiredly, smiling back at him. He wiggles out of the harness and reaches for Jonny, reflecting that having a chance to relax afterward was yet another point against the moon, but Jonny is already pulling away. He propels himself to the side of the bed, lighting a cigarette as he starts to pull his clothes back on.

"You have someplace to be?" Tim asks, struggling to keep the disappointment from his voice as the glow of the moment fades rapidly.

Jonny freezes for a moment, the ember of his cigarette flaring bright to Tim's eyes as they zoom in automatically on his face. He stands up with a shrug, expression unreadable. "Always something to do," he says flatly. "Never been into the whole laying around thing." He flashes Tim a half convincing smile. "I really do love that bed," he says, and heads quickly for the door.

As he leaves, Tim lets his eyes click out of focus, silently watching the brief moment that Jonny's shadow blocks the light spilling across the threshold. He stares at the glow from the hall until the door snaps shut.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim paces his room, occasionally forced to pause and kick something out of his way, anger bubbling in his chest. His room is a wreck, everything he'd claimed for his own reduced to shreds by the guns he'd gotten from the armory. That they'd gotten from the armory. Before Jonny left and didn't come back and dodged out of any room Tim managed to find him in.

So Tim stops leaving and starts shooting shit instead, because he hates this ship and these people and his own fucking eyes that constantly click and focus and do all sorts of things that drive into his mind how deeply they are not his eyes. Pain screams through his head every time he moves and he can't rest no matter how dark he makes the room, can't sleep with his eyes frozen open automatically compensating for the darkness and no matter how many bullets he puts in them he ends up healed and whole within the hour.

But now he's reached the unfortunate position of being out of ammunition, out of alcohol, and out of food. He stops pacing to give the door a frustrated glare. Time to venture out once again and see what fresh bullshit is waiting this time.

First stop is the kitchen, which takes an absurd goddamn length of time to get to considering the batshit insane architecture of a ship that doesn't seem to like him much, and of course when he gets there he can't possibly be lucky enough to be alone.

"Good morning, old chap! Splendid to see you out and about!" the Toy Soldier chirps from where it sits at a table laden with about a dozen servings of tea and biscuits.

Tim never liked the uncanny thing much before, and doesn't much like it now, but he can't help but be concerned about the fully set table. "Are you expecting company?" he asks warily, gesturing to the table and desperately hoping he hasn't walked into a goddamn tea party.

"Oh company would be lovely!" the Toy Soldier replies cheerily. "Sadly, I doubt any of our fine crewmates will manage to join us today! They're all terribly busy!"

"Doing what?" Tim mutters, turning away from the table to rummage through the cabinets for anything that might be edible.

"Well, let's see," it says thoughtfully. "Ashes caused a quite spectacular explosion yesterday, but Nastya is very angry, so they're hiding while Nastya finishes fixing Aurora and has time to kill them, Ivy has important reshelving to do or her library will 'fall into chaos', Brian is plotting our course on the bridge, and I believe Jonny is having some sort of maintenance done on his heart so he's in the lab with the doctor!"

Tim drops the package he's examining and spins around. "What the fuck do you mean, maintenance?" he demands, blood going cold.

"His mechanism is very fragile, I think!" the Toy Soldier tells him. "The doctor is always fixing it up!"

"Fuck!" Tim shouts, slamming his hand against the counter. He glares at the Toy Soldier. "Give me a gun," he orders.

The Toy Soldier immediately draws one and holds it out to him. "Here you are!" it says brightly. "But if you're planning something silly you should know the doctor can't be killed by guns!"

It tilts its head in consideration. "I don't think she can be killed by anything, in fact!" it says. "Almost everyone tries sometimes!" 

"I don't give a shit," Tim snarls. "I'll get this fucking ship free of her or blow us all to hell!"

As he storms from the room the Toy Soldier just smiles its painted smile and doesn't move from the table, only saying softly when he's nearly out of earshot, "I don't think hell would keep us," before turning its attention back to its tea.

The Aurora seems to hum encouragement around him as Tim stalks down the hall, corridors rearranging themselves to guide him swiftly toward his goal, doors swinging open to spill bullets and gunpowder into his path. The madness of battle is rising within him once more, beginning to cloud his thoughts with pure red rage. Maybe- likely- he'll lose, end up torn apart on a table again, but he's seen the light of destruction brighter than anyone ever has, and he'll gladly die in that light as many times as he has to.

It isn't about Jonny, not really, doesn't matter what they have or feel or want, and even if he'd like to put a dozen bullets in Jonny's head himself, he can't forget the sound his arm made being torn off his body as he threw himself to Tim's defense with no hope of success. Dr. Carmilla needs to die, and Tim is going to kill her.

He doesn't bother trying to kick open the door when he reaches the lab, doesn't even check if it's locked before he hurls a bomb, blowing apart the door and half the wall. The scene's as he expected, Jonny sliced open on the table, Dr. Carmilla standing over him with a scalpel, and neither of them have time to blink before Tim starts spraying the room with gunfire.

Maybe Carmilla's hit, maybe she isn't, but she dives for cover and hurls the scalpel in her hand with deadly accuracy, driving it straight through Tim's throat. He doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop shooting, just gurgles mad laughter through the blood. 

"Haven't had a chance to thank you for the immortality, have I" he snarls as he yanks the scalpel from the already closing wound and hurls another bomb, forcing her to fling herself away from the blast and into the next room.

"Isn't this a fucking party," Jonny gasps beside him, freed from the table in the confusion, staggering up to join in the gunfire with his ribs still cracked wide and the metal of his heart glinting through the blood pouring down his chest.

"I'm gonna fucking kill her," Tim says, calm even through the burning hate, unwavering from his goal, looking at nothing but the beautiful explosions sending dazzling light across his vision and the shining droplets of blood he can see with perfect clarity.

Jonny grabs his arm, spins him to the left. "Got a plan, send her that way!" he hisses in Tim's ear before stumbling back into the fray, wild shots providing too much cover for the doctor to retaliate with the laser pistol she'd managed to snatch up.

Tim takes Jonny's advice without thinking, blazing explosions driving Carmilla further and further back until they burst into an already half wrecked hallway, and they're not alone. The others are there, but Tim has no time to wonder how or why, because Ashes is grinning at him through an inferno, the flames rising ever higher now fed by gunpowder as well as gasoline. Weapons are blazing from every angle and Dr. Carmilla is screaming curses at their disloyalty, threats of vengeance, but it's too late as her back hits the door and realization floods her eyes.

Aurora's voice rings out through speakers Tim didn't even know existed. "Open The Door."

And the Toy Soldier, unnoticed at its station by the hatch, snaps to attention and slams its wooden hand against the airlock release control. Dr. Carmilla meets Tim's eyes, a look that's almost pride flitting across her face, before she's sucked backward into the void, the door slamming shut behind her.

Silence falls upon the group, shocked to the core by their victory, before Aurora activates her fire suppression system, ending the moment by coating them all in a tide of icy foam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be one more chapter after this. Please comment if you like it I'm dying for some feedback!


End file.
